


Writing from experience

by Starryeyedrichie



Category: The Young Ones (TV 1982)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Denial of Feelings, First Kiss, M/M, Terrible poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-24 23:20:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19733725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starryeyedrichie/pseuds/Starryeyedrichie
Summary: Rick gets an epiphany while trying to write romantic poetry





	Writing from experience

Writing poetry wasn’t half frustrating sometimes, and rick knew this all too well. He’d been working on this one poem in particular for several hours now. Of course, any other person would’ve forgotten about it and moved on. But not The People’s Poet! He had to press on, it would surely be worth it in the end. The poem in question was rather romantic, or at least trying to be. It wasn’t about anybody, of course, he was just practising alternate styles of poetry, something all good poets do. What he had so far was:

My love for you burns deeper than Thatcher in hell on fire.  
If only you could understand that you’re all I desire.  
Because if I could kiss you, even if it was just one time, a one-time thing, 

And that was it. He had to admit, quite embarrassingly, kisses were one of those things that were hard to write about if you’d never done it yourself. Surely it couldn’t be that hard, he’d seen a lot of people kissing on the telly before.  
He tilted his head awkwardly to one side and closed his eyes, kissing the air and trying to imagine a person on the receiving end. His clammy hands caressed his imaginary partner, one hand resting on their chest and the other snaking around the back of their head to hold them close to him. 

Rick froze. Had he really just felt… gelled spikes and tippexed denim? In his fantasy scenario? There was only one person he knew with both of those things who he saw regularly enough to have feelings for. Maybe this all meant something. Perhaps the seething hatred he’d felt towards the most violent of his housemates was his pathetic attempt at covering up some kind of girly crush. Rick shuddered at the thought. 

The poet had never been the best at making decisions or controlling his impulses, and he was about to fail miserably at doing so once again. In his mind, there was only one way to find out whether he actually hated Vyvyan, or whether his true feelings were being hidden from even himself. He stood up, removing his blazer and placing it neatly over the back of his chair.

It made perfect sense, because not only would it begin to simplify his clusterfuck of emotions, it would also give him the “experience” he’d need to finish his poem. Brilliant! Instilled with a burst of newfound determination, rick began to make his way down the stairs, flapping his hands in front of him to psyche himself up. 

When he arrived in the living room, a not too uncommon sight met his eyes. Vyv was roughhousing with Neil and was about to throw the hippy through the front window of the house. Mike was nowhere to be seen, presumably going out of his way to seduce his most recent fancy. 

Rick managed to listen in on the tail end of the verbal aspect of their spat.

“Come on, Vyvyan, throwing me through the window would have such bad karma!”

“Oh really, Neil? Well, I suppose that gives me more of a reason to actually do it then!”

The poet cleared his throat, redirecting the punk’s attention and causing him to lose his grip on Neil, who yelped upon hitting the floor. 

“What do you want, you girl?” Vyvyan interrogated. 

Before Rick had the chance to chicken out, he pulled Vyvyan towards him by the heavy chain around his neck and captured his lips, which were unexpectedly soft and tasted of cigarettes and a hint of vodka, in his own. His stomach immediately filled with butterflies and his brain was full of sparks. At first, he felt Vyv struggle and try to push him away, but that quickly subsided. Rick felt large, warm hands slide around his waist and a deep, almost silent groan released against his mouth. 

When he had to pull away for air, Rick realised what he’d just done. He turned and sprinted back up the stairs, with Vyvyan not far behind.  
Once he’d reached the safety of his bedroom, he slammed the door shut, just in time for Vyv’s stars to thud against it as he arrived at the same destination. As he sat down with his back against the door, the poet knew he was in for a beating once the thin barrier between him and his assailant had been broken. One thing was for sure though; both boys had definitely enjoyed what transpired downstairs.


End file.
